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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26128915">The Importance of Being Merlin</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/icantbelieveitsfanfic/pseuds/icantbelieveitsfanfic'>icantbelieveitsfanfic</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Merlin (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(not really though), Competency, Gen, George Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Magic Revealed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:13:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,192</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26128915</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/icantbelieveitsfanfic/pseuds/icantbelieveitsfanfic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin is mysteriously absent. Again. </p><p>George does what he can to fill the role. </p><p> </p><p>(Featuring: a George who has studied Gaius's Eyebrow of Doom. Also a few assassins but that's hardly the important thing here.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dragoon the Great &amp; George (Merlin), George &amp; Merlin (Merlin)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>62</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>500</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Our Poor Lovable Merlin</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/17243690">Of Service</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drag0nst0rm/pseuds/Drag0nst0rm">Drag0nst0rm</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This George is mostly inspired by the George in Drag0nst0rm's <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/17243690">Of Service</a>. In fact, that George altered my <i>entire headcanon</i>. I can now only see George as a stiff but very competent servant who is 100% supportive of what Merlin does.</p><p> </p><p>(This fic contains zero references to The Importance of Being Ernest. Sadly, because that’s a hilarious play. But no, I have simply ripped off the name because I consistently roll Nat 1 on my naming skills.)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"George, mate, Merlin's out again, and Gaius asked me to send you up to see to the princess. Personally I'd be inclined to leave him to fend for himself like the rest of us poor mortals, see if it softens him up a bit, but I can't say that to Gaius and face the Eyebrow of Judgement again so soon. Not after that thing with the leech and that goblet. You have to pick your battles, George, and normally I'd be all for picking every single one of them, but not with Gaius."</p>
<p>George nodded. He could admit that to be a valid point, although he of course rarely found himself on Gaius's bad side. (There had been a lot of effort put into making it that way.) "Do you have any knowledge as to when Merlin may return, sire?"</p>
<p>"This is <em>Merlin</em> we're talking about." Gwaine lowered his voice conspiratorially, despite the complete emptiness of the hallway. "Gaius didn't say exactly, but I get the impression he's in the woods gathering herbs. And has been since yesterday. Astounding how he can get so thoroughly lost so often and yet never learn, isn't it? He's got the right idea, though. I'd miss this feast too, if I could. Not enough wine and too many stuffy expectations."</p>
<p>"I see. If Merlin has been—<em>occupied</em>—since yesterday, I presume King Arthur will be requiring my assistance as soon as possible." Not that anyone could fully take Merlin's place, as evidenced by how the king responded to any and all replacements. But when Merlin wasn't available, well, what was George to do? Leave his king to fend for himself? "I trust you shall ensure Merlin's responsibilities regarding the guests for the feast are completed?"</p>
<p>"I'll get Leon to do it, he's—"</p>
<p>George let a slight stiffness into his voice. Just a hint of understated disapproval. "You know his position and personality make him a less favourable choice for the task than yourself, sire. Sir Leon is a good knight, trusted and liked by all of Camelot, but it is undeniable that your <em>particular</em> talents would be more efficient in such <em>officially delicate</em> areas."</p>
<p>Gwaine groaned.</p>
<p>"Without Merlin here, sire, our options are limited, and we all must take up duties beyond our usual, for the good of Camelot—"</p>
<p>"All right, all right! I'll do it."</p>
<p>"Marvellous." Merlin, of course, would have completed all his responsibilities himself. George considered himself a suitably efficient servant, and certainly did his best, but he had <em>no idea</em> how Merlin managed to keep up with so many roles. There was only so much one could humanly do. </p>
<p>…And while he recognized that the <em>absolutely-no-one-knows-cough-cough</em> secret would help, it didn't mean Merlin could be in several places at once. </p>
<p>(George thought duplicating would be a logical ability to learn, if it were at all possible. But he had to assume it wasn't, because if it <em>were</em> he had no doubt that Merlin would never be out of shouting distance of Arthur, no matter what else was going on.)</p>
<p>(The king simply attracted <em>that much trouble</em>.)</p>
<p>(And now that trouble had fallen to George.)</p>
<p>He thought of two new brass jokes on his way to the king's chambers, just to cheer himself up. </p><hr/>
<p>"Where's Merlin?" King Arthur demanded, bolt upright in bed, the moment George entered his chambers. That was only to be expected, really, if Merlin had been absent from his duties as manservant since yesterday.</p>
<p>"I'm afraid he is on an important errand for the physician, sire," George said blandly. "I will be your manservant until he returns. I see that you have already eaten breakfast. Shall I clear away, sire, or would you like to dress first?"</p>
<p>The king scowled. "I have a lot to do today, why is Merlin gone?"</p>
<p>"I expect it is simply taking longer than expected, sire." George whisked a blue shirt out of the wardrobe, flicked some dust off the shoulders, and made a discreet check for moth holes. (It wasn't that he didn't trust Merlin to do his job properly. It was simply that he recognised Merlin occasionally didn't have time for the more <em>mundane</em> parts of his role.)</p>
<p>"If I find he's off in the tavern again—"</p>
<p>With the king dressing behind the screen, George took the opportunity to whip the room into shape. "If it eases your mind, sire, I will search for him once you no longer require my services."</p>
<p>"I don't need my mind eased," King Arthur said. In anyone else the tone would be considered scoffing, but as he was the king, anyone suggesting such a thing must naturally be incorrect. "I need <em>Mer</em>lin to be <em>here</em>. He's my servant. How's he supposed to <em>serve</em> me if he's never here?"</p>
<p>"Indeed, sire." George did not roll his eyes. Others may have, but that would be treason, and worse, <em>disrespectful</em>, and he would never do such a thing. He was a faithful servant to Camelot and the crown. And the crown was much loved by his people, including George himself… even if he was, on certain topics, rather short-sighted. He held out the king's sword and belt. "Is there anything else I can do for you, sire?"</p>
<p>George almost anticipated the bundle of clothes, but not in enough time to catch them before they hit him in the face. The door thumped shut as he wrestled free from their musty clutches. Laundry was the next item on his list, apparently.</p>
<p>He did so hope Merlin finished whatever he was doing and came back soon.</p>
<p>(One day he might not come back at all, but that simply didn't bear thinking about.)</p>
<p>Lumping the laundry into a basket and catching up a pair of dusty boots from under the desk, George turned to the door just as it swung open again.</p>
<p>There was a servant in the doorway of the king's chambers, George realised despairingly. Oh, it wouldn't be a problem if, say, she had come to <em>help</em>. But considering the woman wore the colours of the visiting Lord Cirdane, and considering the expression on her face upon seeing him, and considering the miniature crossbow of some sort she was pulling out from under the neatly-folded linen she carried?</p>
<p>He did so hope this wouldn't turn out to be a Merlin problem.</p>
<p>"I'm afraid," George said, pleasantly, "that the king has gone out. Can I pass on a message for you?"</p>
<p>The woman blinked, and the crossbow dipped. Then she rallied. "I have a message for King Arthur, to be delivered <em>personally</em>—to his heart! But I'm sorry to say you will be too dead to tell him!"</p>
<p><em>Honestly</em>. George himself could do a better assassin speech than—</p>
<p>The crossbow pulled up and released.</p>
<p>—As George stepped back out from behind the bedpost and its thick curtains, he noted that the crossbow bolt had stuck fast in the far wall, and above his head height too. Even if she hadn't telegraphed her shot both physically and verbally, she would still have missed.</p>
<p>Ugh. Incompetence.</p>
<p>The woman's eyes widened to see him still upright. Evidently she overestimated her own abilities. As she struggled to pull another of the miniature bolts from inside her shoe—which, quite aside from being uncomfortable, must be damaging the shape of the leather, <em>surely</em>—George tugged a neckerchief from his pocket.</p>
<p>(It may or may not have been one of Merlin's that he had found and now carried around as a kind of motivational token.)</p>
<p>"Unfortunately I will not be able to let you continue with this assassination attempt of yours. If you would just put the crossbow down, I shall call the guards and we can have you safely down to the dungeons in a jiffy."</p>
<p>The woman bared her teeth. Actually, literally, <em>bared her teeth</em>. If this woman was a prime example of Lord Cirdane's servants, not to mention his assassins, George rather suspected the man would never achieve whatever dreams he had of the throne.</p>
<p>"You have no weapon—"</p>
<p>George twisted the neckerchief in his hands. "As the king's manservant, <em>some</em> level of competence is required." Unlike in Lord Cirdane's servants, apparently. "Have you ever heard, perhaps, of a Mercian Double Burn?"</p>
<p>Hesitation entered the woman's eyes.</p>
<p>"No? What of a Labyrinth's Slicer? It <em>would</em> be particularly apt in this situation, what with being in the chambers of the king, but it also requires at least two spoons, and I've always been more fond of the Tom Thumb, myself." George moved closer as she pressed her spine against the door. The guards—if they hadn't been held up elsewhere, because <em>everything</em> seemed to go wrong when Merlin wasn't around to look after things—should be passing through the corridor at any moment. "It does, of course, leave a little more <em>scrubbing</em> to be done afterwards."</p>
<p>She looked between his face and the red neckerchief slipping between his fingers.</p>
<p>"Still. What's a bit of scrubbing when you're doing something you enjoy?"</p>
<p>And that was enough. The woman yanked the door open and hurled herself out. Half a breath later, the guards' yelling started.</p>
<p>George didn't bother to follow. The remains of the king's breakfast had to be cleared, and his bed straightened, to say nothing of the clothes to be taken down to the maids in the laundry. Oh, and there was that pair of boots which needed polishing.</p>
<p>Also the crossbow bolt should probably be removed.</p>
<p><em>How</em> Merlin managed the roles of manservant, guard, and general protector of king and Camelot, he had no idea.</p>
<p>"I've talked to a few people," Sir Gwaine said, catching him by the arm as they pass once again in a corridor. "Some of Lord Truett's servants are pretty on edge, but that could just be because he's a horrible person. Lady Lilliosah has a daughter a few years younger than Arthur, she's going to try to throw her at him. If you ask me, that's the biggest threat he's going to face over the course of this feast—she's a right determined old thing, frightening really, once she's got her teeth in she doesn't let go. The mother, not the daughter. Although the daughter's teeth are, apparently, also a sight to behold. Oh, and Lord Cirdane might try something."</p>
<p>George held himself even straighter than his usual standards. "Lord Cirdane's assassin is in the dungeons, sire. The guards found her in the halls outside the king's chambers after he left this morning."</p>
<p>The knight blinked, then flipped his hair out of his face. (George would have thought it would interfere during battle, but as he had never been a knight himself, he supposed he was not in a position to comment. And even he could not deny it was very expressive hair.) "Well, then! I suppose it's up to me to keep a close eye on the feast. Wouldn't want someone slipping poison into the wine."</p><hr/>
<p>Training with his knights had left King Arthur in a better mood, and George successfully had him dressed and at the feast on time, so he was pleased with how the day had turned out. He hadn't even needed to use one of his new brass jokes.</p>
<p>He also prevented two culinary catastrophes from reaching the king during the feast, which he considered almost as worthy an achievement. Certainly more to be proud of than stopping the incompetent assassin that morning.</p>
<p>There <em>was</em> one iffy moment where he found a stranger trying to poison one of the culinary catastrophes meant for the king's plate. But once he discovered that the man had bluffed his way in alongside the guests' servants and was not part of a coup planned by some petty lord, George was more than happy to let the head cook deal with that situation.</p>
<p>She was quite capable of inspiring terror when required, as Merlin could have attested.</p>
<p>Standing against the wall, holding a jug of watered wine for the king's cup and watching the people laughing and talking in the candlelight, George reflected on how glad he was that the poison was discovered <em>before</em> it came time for him to taste the king's food. For poison.</p>
<p>It was exhausting and—at times—terrifying to be responsible for so much. But in Merlin's absence, George would do his best. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>(splitting this into a tiny chapter [sorry] because the next scene is long enough to be on its own. probably should have included it with Ch1.)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"You said Merlin was doing something for Gaius," the king accused, throwing his formal coat onto the bed, and his crown onto the desk, and his belt and sword onto the floor. "But he's not back. He should have been here to serve at the feast. He's in the tavern, isn't he? They've got you covering for him too."</p><p>"Forgive me, sire. I confess I have indeed misled you. But I do wish you to know that I only did so through sympathy for the indignity of Merlin's situation."</p><p>"With how much time he's spent at the tavern, I seriously doubt he has any dignity left."</p><p>George let a little more apology bleed into his tone of regret. "He is suffering from nausea and occasional vomiting. The physician believes something he ate may have been… off. It was thought for the best that he did not attend at the feast."</p><p>A pause. "Vomiting."</p><p>"Indeed, sire. A most inopportune occurrence." George slipped the coat into the wardrobe. "We are fortunate indeed that he was not in the kitchens when it began. Is there anything else I can do for you, sire?"</p><p>Arthur waved a hand. "That's—no. You can go."</p><p>"Thank you, sire." On his way out, George gathered up sword, belt, crown and boots from their varied positions around the king's chambers.</p><p>They needed polishing. </p>
<hr/><p>It was early the next morning, as George strode along a corridor in the pale sunlight, carrying a breakfast suitable for when one was suffering the side effects of a feast's wine, that he ran into the old man trying to creep up the stairs towards the king's chambers. </p><p>"Ran into" being unfortunately more than a figure of speech.</p><p>On his backside on the cold stone, watching the rolling goblet track scrambled egg along the hall, George wondered idly if he'd be able to clean the mess up and get another breakfast to King Arthur before he noticed his breakfast was late. Most likely not. What an annoyance.</p><p>Alternatively…</p><p>"You're the sorcerer known for periodically being chased through the castle, are you not?"</p><p>The old man scrambled to his feet, spluttering and brushing down his long red robes. "I most certainly am n—oh, all right, that's me, yes. The sorcerer. Very dangerous. I always escape, so there's no use trying to stop me!"</p><p>"Of course not," George said in his blandest voice, picking himself up off the floor. "I wouldn't dream of attempting such a thing. However. Could you perhaps assist me in cleaning this up?"</p><p>"What do I look like, a servant?" the old man snapped. There was a creaky sort of annoyance in his voice.</p><p>"Not at all. I was merely hoping that—as I am filling in for the regular manservant—I would not have to incur the king's wrath for bringing his breakfast late after I clean up here. He throws things, you know."</p><p>Scrunching his face into a grimace, the old man waved a hand. A flash of gold in his eyes, and the food leaped back onto the tray, arranging itself in an approximation of its original presentation.</p><p>"Just take that lot, it won't kill him," he said, gruff, and turned to shuffle off.</p><p>George raised his voice. "I told him that his regular manservant was suffering from nausea and vomiting, most likely due to something he ate being less than fresh. If you need to know."</p><p>The old man froze with his back to George, then spun around, chin—and beard—jutting out. "Are you asking me to go around magically curing servants of their ailments, now? It's not enough that my existence is against the law, and guards all run around after me, and I'm in the middle of chasing down a pair of sorcerers, and I <em>never</em> get any thanks—"</p><p>George lifted one eyebrow. (A talent he'd been nurturing by subtle study of Gaius.) "His regular manservant would also, I believe, be reassured to know that Lord Cirdane's assassin and the poisoner from last night's feast are securely in the dungeons. He worries about the king's safety when he is absent, you see, even though it is officially beyond his responsibility."</p><p>"I'll—let him know. If I see him." The old man backed away, stroking his impressive white beard. "Which I won't. Because if I saw him, he would definitely call the guards. Wait, who <em>is</em> the king's manservant anyway?"</p><p>George watched the old man whisk himself around the corner. Dragoon, that was the name he went by. The Great Dragoon.</p><p>Hopefully he managed to chase down the pair of sorcerers he was after. That sounded important.</p><p>With a faint sigh, George headed back down to the kitchens to fetch a fresh tray of food. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Someone in servants' clothes was standing in the hallway outside the king's chambers. Again. Which could have been fine, of course, except that the steward was as a general rule very particular about who he sent to serve King Arthur.</p><p>(Due to security concerns, if you asked the steward, but unofficially every servant in the castle knew the other half of the reason was how difficult it was to get someone the king would tolerate enough to not throw them out immediately.)</p><p>And not only was this servant one George had never seen around the castle before, but he was hunched over and whispering into the handle of the door in a completely not suspicious way.</p><p><em>Why</em>. George was not paid <em>nearly</em> enough to deal with Merlin Problems.</p><p>(Neither was Merlin, to be honest.)</p><p>"You must be here to draw the king's bath," George proclaimed stuffily, pushing past the man without a second glance and balancing the tray so he could open the door. "The buckets are in the laundry—the staff there will show you. I'll set the tub out while you're fetching the first load." He turned back to look at the man in the doorway, employing the Gaius Eyebrow once more.</p><p>The man's eyes narrowed. Or perhaps he was naturally squinty. George couldn't quite tell. He did seem to be thinking, and it did seem to be painful.</p><p>Since both hands were occupied with the king's breakfast tray, George poked the sorcerer with his foot. "Off you go."</p><p>The man did.</p><p>Inside the king's chambers, everything was much as George had left it the night before, including the king himself being sprawled out under the sheets. Ordinarily, once he had laid out the breakfast, George would wait until the king woke naturally. But considering the late night he'd had, that might not be advisable. With guests in Camelot, it would be for the best if King Arthur appeared <em>before</em> midday.</p><p>Also, he was currently the target of an assassination attempt, and he couldn't defend himself if he was asleep.</p><p>George dragged the tub out to sit before the fire, taking perhaps less care to keep it entirely silent than he normally would.</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>This was where he really missed Merlin.</p><p>He stood close to the bed and cleared his throat. "Your breakfast is ready, sire."</p><p>King Arthur grunted, rolled over, and reached a hand out from under the sheets, grabbing blindly.</p><p>George managed to duck the goblet, but he didn't appreciate the need to.</p><p>"Today you have training with your knights, sire, but it would seem likely for Camelot's guests to make an appearance as well, as it looks to be a pleasantly sunny day. To that end, I have taken the liberty of selecting your second-newest red shirt, polished your armour, and sharpened your sword. If you feel quite able, I would now like to ensure you are prepared for the day ahead."</p><p>"Gah," King Arthur said, and sat up long enough to throw a pillow.</p><p>Well.</p><p>If Merlin could manage to do his work <em>around</em> the king, George could at least try.</p><p>Besides, the king's impressive skill with the sword could nonetheless not guarantee success against a sorcerer, and being subjected to an assassination attempt would only put him out of sorts.</p><p>"Very well, sire. I shall make your excuses this morning. I expect that most of your guests are still sleeping themselves. Shall I tell the knights that training has been postponed until the afternoon?"</p><p>Muffled by his other pillows, the king mumbled, "Whatever you want, Merlin, just shut up."</p><p>Swiftly, George drew the curtains around the bed. There was a comfortably oblivious silence from within.</p><p>The door swung open and the sorcerer stepped inside, a bucket in each hand and the legs of his trousers damp. He looked disgruntled to see George still present. "Where do you want this?"</p><p>Right. "The tub's there." George gestured vaguely, whipping a dusting cloth out from his pocket. "It need to be full, and it needs to be hot."</p><p>The man squinted at the tub, presumably trying to figure out if the opportunity was worth the work.</p><p>Apparently the mental picture of the sleeping king, unarmed and unaware, was bait enough.</p><p>Every time the sorcerer came lumbering up the stairs, buckets trailing little rows of drips—and wouldn't <em>that</em> be making the stairs hazardous; did he think someone was going to follow after him with a mop?—George happened to be flicking at the dust on the king's desk, or sorting through the wardrobe beside his bed, or checking the still-drawn bedcurtains for moths.</p><p>He was arranging and rearranging the king's breakfast when the sorcerer poured in the last bucket.</p><p>(With the amount of time he'd taken, there was no possibility that he'd fetched the water the normal way. The job should have taken at least half as long again. He must have used magic to help, somehow; that, or he had incredible yet non-magic talents and had missed his calling as a manservant.)</p><p>(Sorcerer servants. They could be the new thing. All the nobles should have one.)</p><p>The man straightened over the tub, rubbed his back, and looked towards the bed. Judging by the faint snores, King Arthur was, as yet, still not conscious. <br/>
Still facing the window, George shifted an apple onto a plate, hummed, and replaced it with a bunch of fat grapes. His eyes never left the goblet on the edge of the table.</p><p>(It may not have been brass, but he was quite pleased with how well it had polished up, if he said so himself. So shiny and <em>reflective</em>.)</p><p>Of course, the sorcerer slipped across the room to stand beside the bed. On the <em>other</em> side to where George was fussing over the breakfast on the desk.</p><p>Which wouldn't have been a problem, except that George himself had drawn the thick red curtains around the bed, meaning that now it was impossible for him to see what was going on. With a silent sigh, he sat on the chest at the end of the king's bed and leaned forward, just far enough to hold the goblet out beyond the corner of the curtains.</p><p>The sorcerer, all ripple-y in the reflection, was whispering over a dagger. Which, George mused, was hardly discreet. Did all magic involve dramatic whispering? He'd certainly witnessed enough of it from Merlin.</p><p>And then the man pricked a finger and let a drop of blood fall onto the floor—onto! the floor! Was he going to scrub that, hm? No, George didn't think so.</p><p>Enough was enough.</p><p>Pushing to his feet, George set the goblet back onto the desk and grabbed the sword from the chair where he'd laid out the king's clothes, ready for training with the knights.</p><p>When he rounded the end of the bed, the other man barely had time to turn and squint at him before George belted him on the head with the pommel.</p><p>If there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was incompetence.</p><p>Behind the thick curtains, the king groaned. "<em>Mer</em>lin, why can't you do anything quietly? What time is it?"</p><p>…Perhaps he should have caught the man on the way down.</p><p>Next time, he would keep that in mind.</p><p>"The morning is still young, sire," George said reassuringly, unaffected by the king's constant—and semi-conscious—assumptions that it must be Merlin attending him: after all, the other servant very nearly always <em>was</em>. "And I apologise for the noise." What to do? With King Arthur now roused, he did not have very much longer at all to finish his work. Could he stuff the sorcerer under the bed? There was room enough, certainly, but what if he woke up? As for the dagger, which was presumably now enchanted, there was a very deep well on the other side of the city that had been dry for years.</p><p>The chamber door swung open with a crash.</p><p>Merlin stumbled in. His eyes widened as he took in the body at George's feet.</p><p>He looked worse for wear, George noted. Oh, he was an expert at hiding it, but his shirt had little burn holes all down one side, and his left hand looked rather stiff, and dark with bruising. On top of that, the state of his <em>hair</em>—well, actually, perhaps <em>that</em> was just Merlin.</p><p>"Who on <em>earth</em>—" The bed shook, and, knowing he had only seconds, George promptly heaved the body under the bed, under Merlin's wide-eyed gaze.</p><p>King Arthur's head poked out from the curtains.</p><p>"<em>Mer</em>lin. Of course. Who else would barge into my chambers at this time of morning? And speaking of the time of morning: where, may I ask, have you been?"</p><p>Merlin put his hands behind his back. "Gathering herbs for Gaius, sire."</p><p>…George had organised a <em>perfectly good</em> cover story. What was wrong with his cover story. Why must Merlin attempt to bluff. Merlin was <em>terrible</em> at bluffing.</p><p>"What, and that took all day?"</p><p>"Some of them grow in swamps and things. Inconvenient places to get to. That's why Gaius sends me instead of going himself."</p><p>As the king drew a breath to make what was no doubt going to be a breathtakingly witty retort, George coughed. Both men turned to look at him.</p><p>"I'm terribly sorry, Merlin, but I have already confessed to the king and he is aware of the reason you have been absent."</p><p>Merlin froze. Then his eyes narrowed. "What do you—I don't—"</p><p>"I always knew you were weak, Merlin, but I didn't realise that extended to your stomach!" The king snorted. "Then again. You're entirely incapable of holding your drink, so I really should have guessed."</p><p>George cut in smoothly, more for the efficient flow of his own workday than for saving Merlin from the attention of his king. "He did request that I attend you in his absence, sire. Your breakfast is ready, your clothes are laid out, and a bath has been drawn. Which would you like to see to first?"</p><p>"I would <em>like</em>," King Arthur grumbled, dragging himself out of bed, still draped in a sheet and rubbing at his hair, "to see <em>Mer</em>lin manage to arrive on time for once, but I suppose I'll have to excuse you this once seeing as you were busy hurling up your insides." He wandered over to the bath, but stopped and glared at Merlin. "That doesn't change the fact that you've been absent almost two whole days already this week, and that's not counting all the times you've missed your chores."</p><p>Taking opportunity of the king's back being turned and his attention being fixed firmly on Merlin, George laid the sword back onto the chair with the king's fresh clothes, but not without a quick wipe of the pommel to remove anything... unsavoury. It wouldn't do for the king's sword to be less than pristine.</p><p>He might need to give it a proper polish later.</p><p>"Tell me the truth, Merlin. Is there someone <em>particular</em> you're seeing at the tavern?"</p><p>"You've got me there, sire. I'm meeting up with this band of outlaws, we're plotting to have you overthrown and replaced with a king who's less of a dollop-head."</p><p>"That's treason, <em>Mer</em>lin."</p><p>"Is it? I'd no idea."</p><p>"I swear, one day someone's going to hear what comes out of your mouth and insist I provide actual consequences. Which will be a rude shock for you, considering how lenient I've always—this water is <em>stone. Cold</em>. I am the king of Camelot. Why is my bathwater stone cold? Is a warm bath too much to ask for?"</p><p>(As a matter of fact, it <em>was</em> too much to ask for, by ordinary standards. Merlin was the only reason King Arthur ever got hot baths. For the rest of the servants, this was outside the realm of the physically possible. To his dismay, George found himself included in the list of the incapable.)</p><p>"Perhaps, sire, you might like to refresh yourself with some breakfast while we amend the situation?" George hovered at the king's elbow, employing his most avid George Voice™.</p><p>The king retreated to sit at his desk almost immediately. George had expected he would. He was discomforted by George's intensity; it would take a fool not to notice that, and George was no fool. The George Voice™ was specifically tailored to use that discomfort.</p><p>(Solely for non-evil ends. Of course.)</p><p>There was a brief silence between the two servants. Merlin looked at George, who returned his gaze blandly.</p><p>"If you could, perhaps, deal with the bathwater?"</p><p>"It'll take <em>ages</em> to empty that out and bring up buckets of freshly heated stuff," Merlin whined, face cagey.</p><p>George kept his tone low and smooth, the attention-skimming undertone of a good servant. "I have no objection to you using your regular method of heating the water, Merlin. Unfortunately, I lack your particular talents. Thus my request."</p><p>Merlin choked on air.</p><p>"So if you will take over here, Merlin, I shall go remove the incompetent sorcerer from under the king's bed." George paused. The other manservant doubtless received praise infrequently, working for who he did. Not that George was criticizing the king. "I must say, you do your job exceedingly well, Merlin. I take pride in what I do, but your role is an exhausting one to fill. I presume you've taken care of the pair of sorcerers you were after?"</p><p>Merlin choked again, his eyes huge. "I wasn't—I don't—"</p><p>"Indeed." George studied the younger man. "If there is, in the future, any way I can provide assistance, do let me know."</p><p>"There's nothing to—help with—"</p><p>"Of course not. Perhaps just the polishing, then. Bringing up the occasional meal for the king. Taking out the odd unsuspecting assassin. The more mundane tasks."</p><p>Once Merlin calmed down, George did rather hope that he would accept the offer.</p><p>After all, if working alone got Merlin killed (or, just as likely, driven into exhaustion) then George would be required to fill the role full-time. And he was <em>not</em> ready—or qualified—for that.</p>
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